Claws are Always Out
by Bionic Egypt
Summary: Adrien has a habit of letting his self-doubt overwhelm him. Plagg is very tired of this.
**This is a companion fic to my other one, Spots are Always On. You can read the other one if you'd like, or just read this one. Whatever you choose, please enjoy** _ **Claws are Always Out**_ **.**

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Claws are Always Out

With one final leap, Chat Noir landed in an abandoned alley. A green light swept up his body, taking away the leather and the power that came with it. Sighing softly to himself, Adrien fished a wedge of cheese from his pocket and handed it to Plagg. That had been a difficult akuma. He hated the ones that could create armies.

The model walked home, hands in his pockets while Plagg scared down cheese in his spot inside Adrien's shirt. When they got home, he stopped by the kitchen to snag a whole wheel of the vile dairy product for his kwami. He deserved it after all the hard work he'd done that day.

Adrien had long ago realized that Plagg did almost all of the work fighting akumas. It made sense; nothing could be as lazy as the cat without doing someone strenuous very often. Besides, Adrien was a lot of things, but he wasn't really a hero. He wasn't strong enough or brave enough or _good_ enough to do anything that Chat Noir could do.

They reached Adrien's bedroom, the boy collapsing backward onto his bed and the kwami eagerly devouring the cheese. There they stayed for a while, silent as they did their own thing. At least, until Adrien's self-doubting thoughts pulled a heavy sigh from his lips. Plagg turned and glared at his chosen. Couldn't he have waited just a little bit longer? He was almost done with his cheese!

"Tell me you're not thinking about Ladybug again," the black cat complained. "Either confess or give up. I'm getting tired of hearing about your love problems."

Adrien didn't look at his kwami as he replied "It's not about Ladybug."

Now he really had Plagg's attention. Since when did the kid sigh over anything other than his spotted partner? Curious, he floated over and settled down onto Adrien's pillow, devouring the rest of his cheese in a single gulp. He might as well get comfortable. This could take a while.

About five minutes passed in silence before Adrien finally spoke, his eyes locked firmly on his ceiling.

"Why'd you choose me?"

That was the last thing Plagg had expected to hear from his boy. "What?"

"What made you pick me to fight akumas with? I'm nothing, just a mannequin for my father's company. I've never made my own decisions, never took a chance, never _done_ anything. So why use me to save the world? Anyone else could do it, probably even better than I can."

A split second later, an empty camembert box smacked him in the face. Letting out a cry –more from surprise than actual pain –Adrien sat up and shot a glare at the kwami. Plagg responded with an annoyed huff, crossing his tiny arms.

"You're an idiot."

"Wh–"

"No, I get to talk now," the floating cat snapped, cutting off whatever the boy had been about to say. "You're an idiot. You don't get to tell me that choosing you was a mistake. I'm not going to stand here and let one of _my kittens_ put themselves down. Yes, your dad is an uncaring moron who treats you like a department store mannequin, but you're not made of plastic. You care –a little more than you should, I'll admit –and never give up on anything. You're annoying and stupid and way too selfless, have a talent for dumb cat puns and sacrificing yourself for those you care about, and are the nicest rich kid in the history of forever, all of which I've seen by the way."

Adrien opened his mouth to interrupt, but Plagg just kept right on talking.

"I don't fight the akumas; that's all you, kid. When you say 'Claws out,' I give you the suit, the staff, and Cataclysm. _You_ fight the akumas. _You_ protect Ladybug –much as it annoys me. _You_ save Paris. So don't sit there and tell me that I chose wrong. Yeah, you could give me more cheese, but other than that, you're the best Chat Noir I've had in centuries."

Adrien had no idea what to say to that. Plagg thought he was the best Chat Noir in centuries? With a film of joyful tears coating his eyes, the boy snatched the kwami out of the air and hugged him tightly to his chest. Plagg yelped and squirmed around in his grip a little, though he eventually stopped moving.

He'd let his kitten have this moment.

But he definitely deserved extra cheese for this. Adrien had a really strong grip. Ow . . .

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 **Tada! Hey, who here also thinks that Master Fu isn't the only one who decides who gets what kwami? Because I think the kwamis also have a say in it. Would you want to have some old guy choose who owns you for the foreseeable future? I didn't think so. Thanks for reading!**

 **~C**


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